


Beyond the Door

by cherryvanilla



Category: Nirvana (Band), Pearl Jam
Genre: Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, MTV Video Music Awards, Slow Dancing, Snapshots, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-18 02:23:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21620290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: “Oh shit, it’s Clapton,” he said to Eddie, whose face lit up.
Relationships: Kurt Cobain/Eddie Vedder
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28
Collections: Yuletide Madness 2019





	Beyond the Door

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RocknRoll1968](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocknRoll1968/gifts).



> Rocknroll1969: When I saw your prompt re: wanting something based around the footage of Kurt and Eddie slow dancing at the MTV Awards, I just had to write you this treat, as I’ve lowkey wanted to write something like this ever since I first heard about/saw that footage. (Link to said footage can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGTpyQhpnaU&app=desktop).) 
> 
> Some of the dialogue within this was lifted/paraphrased from info found in these articles: [1](https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1994-05-01-ca-52475-story.html), [ 2](https://www.yahoo.com/entertainment/1992-video-music-awards-fascinating-140531652.html%22), and [3](https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/toronto-2011-pearl-jams-eddie-233755). 
> 
> These are very minor references that are handled lightly, but still better safe than sorry: cw’s for one reference to the song “Rape Me”, a canonical reference to suicide in the form of the song “Jeremy”, and a canonical child death from the song “Tears in Heaven”.

It was all bullshit smack talk, was the thing. It was kind of expected of you, even in the grunge scene. People talked about “roots” and “authenticity” in terms of the sound. Eddie had been an easy target. And Kurt _wasn’t_ crazy about their sound, so it was fitting. 

“I dunno, man. We’re underground, you know? They’re kind of an old-line commercial rock band in grunge clothing. You can go out and find twenty Pearl Jam’s. They’re pioneering a corporate, alternative and cock-rock fusion." 

It got picked up by a few news outlets. There were headlines of a Pearl Jam/Nirvana feud. 

Eddie responded with things like, “If that’s how he feels” and “I’m not really sure he understands what we’re trying to do.” It sounded a bit too civil and so it had to be canned, but hey, Kurt didn’t really know the guy. Had never even shared the same space as him, aside from words on the page of a magazine. 

Until the MTV Music Awards. 

Kurt was hanging backstage, watching some of the other acts. Pearl Jam took the stage, and Kurt was getting ready to roll his eyes at Dave, when instead he was left kind of speechless. He still wasn’t crazy about their sound, but Eddie was something else. Energy and passion dripping from his every pore as he vibrated like a caged animal. Kurt could not take his eyes off him.

Later, there were a bunch of people hanging out beneath the stage. The show was winding down, and people kept coming up to Kurt asking him about the Axl Rose shit. He caught sight of Eddie off to a corner, quietly sipping a drink. He looked dumb in that helmet, and Kurt silently mourned for the sight of his curly locks. He thought back to how rad that performance had been.

Kurt found his feet making their way toward him on their own volition.

“Hey, man.” 

Eddie looked up, eyes widening. “Uh, hey.”

Kurt laughed. “Hey uh, you were good, man.”

“Uh, thanks. You too. Bold uh, choice, with that intro.”

Kurt laughed again. “Pushback because we were told there’s no way we could sing the full song. To which I told the suits hey, if you can’t sing about rape on national TV, when can you?”

“Ha. I hear ya. Same goes for suicide, I guess. They wanted us to choose any other song.”

Kurt felt himself falter for a moment before smiling. “Look at us, pushing boundaries!” 

Eddie studied him. “Mmm. I thought I was, what was it? ‘Pioneering corporate alternative cock-rock?’” 

“Aww, man, you know it’s all just shit talking right? Everyone in the industry does it.” His face felt hot.

“It didn’t really seem like you cared about shit like that.”

He was right, was the thing. Kurt mostly had no fucking clue what people expected from him, so he found himself spewing nonsense in between the causes he actually did give a fuck about and could use this platform to give a voice to. But the smack talk also took the attention off of him, a bit. He didn’t care how big Nirvana was, or if Pearl Jam was bigger. He never really wanted any of this attention. He just wanted to make music. 

“You’re a pretty smart dude.” Kurt shot him a crooked smile and Eddie smiled back, soft and tentative. Sweet. “But listen, okay? After seeing you perform tonight, I realized that you are a person that does have some passion. You're a respectable human being, Eddie Vedder.” 

Eddie laughed. “Well, thank you kindly, Mr. Cobain.”

He held out his hand. “Truce?”

Eddie looked down at it before grasping on. “Truce.”

“Your band still sucks, though.” 

Eddie’s laughter was so loud people stopped and stared. 

They began talking and it was effortless. Eddie was funny as fuck, with a dry, witty sense of humor. He was also pretty damn awkward, which Kurt could sympathize with. He fidgeted sometimes, looked down at his feet a lot. They’d moved to the middle of the space, drifting and talking with other people who were coming down beneath the stage. 

Kurt could hear the next performance beginning. 

“Oh shit, it’s Clapton,” he said to Eddie, whose face lit up. 

The first few somber notes of guitar filtered down from the stage. Kurt grinned at Eddie mischievously before pulling him into his arms and swaying them grandly from side to side. 

“Dude, what? You’re crazy, man,” Eddie laughed in his ear. 

Kurt just grinned wider.

“If you can’t slow dance to a tragic song about your kid dying with your former enemy,” he said softly, one hand stroking down Eddie’s cheek, “under the stage at the MTV awards, then when can you?” 

Eddie laughed brightly, but his eyes flashed hot as Kurt’s fingers finished their journey down his face. He pulled Kurt in close and hugged him, like they’d been friends forever. Kurt felt something swell inside him, a wave of peace filling his normally loud subconscious. 

“You really are a respectable human being,” Kurt whispered, looking straight into his eyes. 

“So are you,” Eddie replied, smiling so Kurt could see his teeth. 

They pulled away after too brief a time, and everyone started clapping and cheering. There might’ve even been someone with a video camera nearby, capturing their little love fest. Kurt held his finger up to his mouth to everyone, because seriously, it’s Clapton. They quieted down and listened to the rest of the heartfelt performance. Eddie’s eyes looked a little shinier by the end of it. 

They didn’t dance again. They had to go up and see if their bands were going to win any remaining awards. They both lost Alternative Video, but Nirvana won Best New Artist. 

Kurt handed the moon man off to Krist and found Eddie lingering by the side of the stage, just as Guns ‘N Roses were about to start.

“Congrats, man.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna go for a smoke, not watching this shit.” 

“Hey, I’ll go with you,” Eddie replied. 

Kurt smiled to himself as they made their way out the back of the building, avoiding press and groupies as much as possible. 

“Air!”

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, and now you’re gonna fill your lungs with smoke.” 

“Fuck you, you smoke.” 

“Guilty as charged,” Eddie grinned, before pulling a pack of Marlboros out of his bomber jacket. 

“You’re not cold?” Eddie asked after they lit their cigs and were leaning against the aluminum door. You’re basically in a nightshirt.”

Kurt waved his free hand. “M’good, ‘less you’re angling for a cuddle session.”

It was dark, only the washed out streetlights of the alleyway providing light, but Kurt could still make out Eddie’s flush. 

“Alright, now I get what all the teenage girls see.” 

Eddie opened his mouth in question, but Kurt beat him to it. Eddie’s lips were soft, and his silly helmet was cold as Kurt curled his hand around the back of his head, pushing in closer. He tucked his hand beneath it, got a fistful if soft curls. 

Then Eddie opened his mouth, kissed Kurt back, tongue hot and pushing between Kurt’s lips. 

They made out against that aluminum door until the distant sounds of Slash’s guitar eased up. 

“People gonna start leaving,” Eddie said against Kurt’s lips, making him shiver. 

“Yeah.”

Eddie pulled back, bit his own lip. “This can’t really be a thing.” 

“No,” Kurt agreed. They had their own lives that left no room for such a dalliance. “But we’ll always have Eric Clapton.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie smiled. “We will.” 

They kissed once more before sneaking back inside, no one the wiser. Kurt slipped Eddie his number as he was leaving. 

“Call me sometime. Be good to hear a friendly voice.”

Eddie nodded, his smile soft and strange. 

During an interview a few weeks later, a reporter tried to bait him into trash-talking Pearl Jam. 

“Nah, man. I’m not going to do that anymore. It hurts Eddie and he’s a good guy. So go look somewhere else.”

He hoped that Eddie would read it, and call. 

The End.


End file.
